


In A Dream My Love

by Vulpes86



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Almost smut, CoE, F/M, Kissing, dont want to give away too much, travel lodge, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpes86/pseuds/Vulpes86
Summary: Strike and Robin find themselves back at the Travel Lodge in Barrow, five doors apart.





	1. The Night

**Author's Note:**

> At times Strike and Robin may seem a little out of character... you’ll see why. 
> 
>    
> OK So I updated this SLIGHTLY (5.25.2018) due to a few typos... and some of y’all want a second chapter so I had to make a slight change. This is now in the second half of CoE but definitely before the end. See the end comments for the change. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy. I wrote thus a while ago and wanted to get it up... things have slowed a little on The Fan. It I hope to get more work done next week!
> 
> Feel free to leave comments!

Strike had barely sat down to remove his prosthesis when there was a quiet rap on the door. He knew it had to be Robin, but they had parted just moments before, she could have just called him or texted if she needed something. A small flicker of hope rose in his chest. Hope for what exactly? He cursed himself, don’t get any ideas, her ring has barely been off. There were still tan lines from where it had sat on her 3rd finger. 

“Coming,” he grunted as he pushed himself off the bed. All he wanted was to take off his damn leg and take a shower. 

Reflexively Strike looked through the peephole, unsurprised to see Robin, but surprised to see that she had changed into her pajamas. 

Strike opened the door and Robin all but pushed herself inside, leaving a trail of strawberry-vanilla scent in her wake. 

“Is everything OK?” He asked as he turned from the door. He tried not to notice how the silk pajamas clung to her curves. 

“I...I don’t know,” she stammered as blush crept it’s way onto her cheeks. She turned away, covering her face in her hands.

Strike took a step closer. His hand slowly reached up towards her shoulder, but she turned back to him before he could reach for her. She collapsed into his chest as he stood there, stunned. 

“Oh, Cormoran!” She cried dramatically into his chest, her hands clenching fists fulls of his shirt. “I need your help!” She looked up at him, eyes shining. 

“Anything…” He whispered, staring down at her. 

Her hands slid from his chest up to his face. She cradled his stubble covered face so careful, his eyes fluttered shut at her touch. 

“Cormoran,” She whispered as she slowly raised herself up on her tiptoes. 

Without realizing Strike’s hands were on her waist, guiding her towards him. Why was he letting this happen? He knew this was a huge mistake, but he seemed powerless to stop it. He did want her, he couldn’t deny this, but thus far the rational part of his brain had always kept her at arms length, but then again, Robin usually was at least a physical arm length away from him. 

Her lips met his, first gently, then more sure. She pressed herself into him, her mouth searing against his. She tasted like tea and honey. 

Finally Strike found the strength to pull away. He held her shoulders as he felt her try to lean back into him.

“Robin, what are you doing?” He panted as he tried to catch his breath.

She blushed and looked away. 

“I need to be with another man, and I want that to be you.” She said quickly before stealing a glance at him. 

He let go of her and scratched his head in confusion. “What?”

“I am finally free of that awful Matthew, oh Cormoran, why didn’t you tell me what a twat he was? Why didn’t you save me sooner? I need you to save me now, before I crawl back to him.” She stepped closer again “Show me what being with a real man is like.” Her hands were once again running up his chest into his hair. “I need you, Cormoran.”

This last sentence was all it took to break his reserve. He crashed his mouth down onto hers, grabbing her hips and pressing them into his. One hand found its way up to the base of her skull where, woven between the strands of golden waves, his hand pressed her harder into him. 

His mouth left hers, trailing kisses down her jaw and neck, lapping at her collar bone. She let out a small moan as he nipped at her skin. Her hands were frantic, searching his body for purchase, his hair, his neck, his back, his arse. 

Slowly she began pulling him towards the bed while simultaneously tugging at the hem of his shirt. He quickly obliged and pulled his shirt over his head. She ran her fingers through his thick chest hair, marveling at it. 

She maneuvered them around and pushed him down to sit on the bed. Without breaking their heated kiss she was straddling him, rubbing her heat against his hardening groin. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long Cormoran, now I can finally have you.”

He closed his eyes as she peppered his face, neck and shoulder with kisses. He couldn’t believe this was happening, he would be lying if he had said he hadn’t thought about kissing her, but this was far beyond what he had ever let his mind wander to. He was nothing like Matthew, he wasn’t good looking or from a good family, but he had seen the admiration in her eyes, and maybe he had seen a bit more. And now, suddenly, all those reasons why this was a terrible idea didn’t seem so important, didn’t seem so necessary.

His hand moved up her back, sliding under her silk cami. She moaned out his name as his hand brushed the underside of her breast. Slowly his lifted his heavy lids to make sure she was comfortable with his pace. 

Cormoran’s eyes opened to a flat white ceiling and him in a horizontal position. He glanced around his small flat as the realization that he was dreaming smacked him right in the face. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. How many times has he had this dream since their trip up north. How many times had he run through his head what might have happened if he had the gall to knock on her door that night. Conflicted, he chastised himself for even thinking about Robin that way. She was his partner, she was engaged _again_ , she was beautiful. 

“Oh for fuck sake,” he cursed as thoughts of her flooded his mind again. Tomorrow would be interesting.

### 

“Robin…” Strike said as she opened the door to her hotel room. 

“Yes, Cormoran?” She asked coily, she stood in the doorway. Strike’s eyes fell to her silk pajamas before coming back to rest on her face. 

“I’ve got something I want to show you,” he took a step closer, “may I come in?”

“Alright,” she breathed moving aside just enough for Strike to get through. His scent of smoke and sandalwood following close behind. She gently shut the door behind her, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure,” he responded, watching her with heavy eyes. 

Robin made her way to the desk in the hotel room. Where on earth did this scotch come from? This is a travel lodge. Robin thought to herself as she poured two fingers into each glass. She took a small sip and watch him over her glass as she handed him his drink. His fingers lingered on hers as he took it from her.

“What have you got for me?” She asked, taking a step closer. 

Strike took a long sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact before withdrawing his cell phone from his pocket. He placed his drink on the desk and motioned her to come look.

The screen was small so Robin inched close to Strike to get a good view of what he had to show her. She was nearly pressed up against him as he pulled some photos up from an email attachment. 

“Wardle sent some stills from more CCTVs in the area around the office. Looks like the carrier that brought you the - uh - package.” He looked away from the phone to watch Robin’s face. “He thinks it’s the same man at least, hoping you could take a look and confirm.”

Robin leaned in, taking a closer look. She reached out and guided his hand holding the phone closer to her face, not actually taking the phone out of his hand. She squinted at the blurry photos and she flipped through a few more angles. 

“Hmm, definitely looks like it's the same bike; same build, same outfit. I am fairly certain this is the same man.” She turned to look up at Strike, who was already looking down at her. 

“Thanks for taking a look, Robin, I’ll let Wardle know.” Strike didn’t move however. He continued to stare down a her, standing dangerously close. 

“No problem,” she breathed, just above a whisper. She swallowed hard. “Glad that I've been able to help on this case. I cannot wait until we catch this bastard.”

“You have always been a great help,” Strike said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Indispensable.”

Robin blushed furiously, and noticed that his gaze had drifted down to her mouth. 

“I guess I had better go call Wardle,” he told her lips. 

As soon as he shifted his weight onto his good knee to move to the door, Robin’s hand came up, resting on his arm. 

“Stay.”

Strike stopped, looked at her hand, then back to her. 

She stared wide eyed at him, why did I just ask him to stay? I would never, I mean I want him to, but I would never ask. Oh god.

“To finish your drink?” She tried to smile and hoped he believed her. 

Still standing, unmoved, from his spot close to her, he reached forward, nearly closing the already small gap between them and grabbed his drink.

“Cheers,” he said before throwing his drink back, finishing it in one swallow. Robin watched as the burning liquid slid down his throat and lit a fire behind his eyes.

Robin couldn’t deny the want she saw behind Strike’s eyes, knowing her own face reflected the same. 

Strike put his glass back down, inching ever closer. He stared down at her through heavy lids; Robin stared up with blushing cheeks. Both moved in the absolute smallest increments towards each other. 

Robin’s eyes fluttered shut once she could feel Strike’s breath on her lips. She braced herself for the impending impact of his mouth on hers, her heart pounding in her chest. His mouth met hers and she sank into him. His arms enveloped her in a warm hug that made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t known since she as a child. 

“Cormoran,” she breathing into his mouth. 

He growled a moan back into hers as he deepened the kiss. His shifting hands moved to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangled in her fiery blond hair. Robin felt so much love blossom in her chest. He held her carefully but with purpose and Robin couldn’t help feeling at home. Her worries and fears melted away, as he trailed kisses down her jaw and neck, her hands sliding into his dense curls. 

He growled again against her neck, then again in a soft rhythmic pattern. The third time it almost sounded like… a snore?

Robin’s eyes flew open.

She was not in a travel lodge. She was not with Strike. She was in her bed, in her flat, in London. Strike was not there, but Matthew quietly snoring beside her. 

This wasn’t the first time she had that dream. Not the first night she had spent with Strike in that hotel room in her mind. This dream wasn’t even the farthest they had gone. Robin blushed as the dream from two weeks ago resurfaced in her mind, the one where she had woken in the throws of an orgasm. Robin had told Matthew it had been a nightmare when he woke to find her panting beside him.

Robin rolled onto her back staring at the ceiling, trying to get Stike’s taste, touch and smell out of her mind; trying to decide if the pain in her chest was guilt or disappointment. Tomorrow would be interesting.


	2. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after, as requested :)

Robin had not slept well. She found it nearly impossible to get the sensation of Cormoran out of her mind. As Matthew snored obnoxiously next to her, she simply laid awake and tried to think of nothing, but as soon as she started to drift back to sleep the smell of cigarette smoke began to surround her, and she would have to shake herself awake. 

Finally at 5 am she got up and went for an early morning run, hoping the endorphins would help clear her mind. It also gave her time to think about what she how she would act today. Like nothing happened, of course, because nothing did happen, obviously. She wouldn’t let her gaze linger on his massive frame, she wouldn’t bring him his tea, she would just tell him it’s ready. That’s not suspicious! He wouldn’t be able to figure out what she had been dreaming about from that! Or would that be acting weird?

She screamed internally in frustration and ran back to the flat. Luckily if Matthew was up he could easily mistake the flush of her cheeks to be from running, not being flustered. She showered, dressed, awkwardly kissed Matthew goodbye and made her way to Denmark Street. She knew she would be about thirty minutes early, but she hoped that if she busied herself quickly she would not be distracted once her boss showed up. 

Cormoran had not slept well. Every time his eyes closed Robin stood before him, beckoning him back to that hotel bed. The silence in his flat was deafening. His tired mind played tricks on him, a knock on the door, the whisper of his voice, all hovering around him as he teetered on the edge of sleep. 

Finally at 5 am he got up and started smoking, hoping the nicotine and the burn in his lungs would help clear his mind. As he sat by the open window he thought about how he would act today. Like nothing happened, of course, because nothing did happen, obviously. He wouldn’t let his gaze linger on her soft curves or golden sunshine hair. He wouldn’t ask her into his office to look at something, or stand over her shoulder at the computer. He would ask her to move so he could sit down without invading her personal space. That’s not suspicious! She wouldn’t be able to figure out what he had been dreaming about from that! Or would that be acting weird?

He moaned in frustration and moved from the window after grinding out his smoke. He showered, attached his leg, cooked a large breakfast, ate it and cleaned. It was still early but he headed down to the office, this way he could beat Robin in, barricade himself in his office with work, and not come out when she showed up. 

Strike ambled down the stairs to the office fumbling with his keys once he got to the door. So lost in thought of how to avoid Robin and finding the right key he failed to hear the clanging of her heels on the metal staircase. 

Robin stood just behind him, unsure how to proceed. She didn’t want to scare him, he obviously didn’t notice that she had come in. Why was he down here so early, this was not the plan. She frowned and cleared her throat. 

The unexpected noise along with the sensation of no longer being alone startled Strike, he whirled around, not sure who or what to expect but his instincts got the best of him and his arm swung out to block any on-coming offense. 

Unfortunately for the both of them there was none. Strike had shifted his weight in anticipation of having to deflect a blow, but since there was none, his prosthesis took the brunt of his centripetal motion causing a buckling sensation in his knee. Robin was still, however in the way of his arch, and in attempts to dodge the flying limb she stepped back, off the landing, towards the spiral staircase of death. 

Fortunately in the milliseconds that this all occurred in Strike was able to reach out with his other arm, Robin reaching too as her heel stuck in the grate, slightly slowing her fall. As Strike collapsed in a massive heap he was able to get a hold of Robin and pull her down with him, on to the landing instead of down the stairs. 

Robin lay on top of Strike, both panting from the surge of adrenaline that had spiked in the span of five seconds. She pushed herself up, her hands resting on his chest, her hair falling in his face. Blush crept onto Robin’s face, “We have to stop meeting like this.” She smiled at him, trying to play it cool. 

Strike would have smiled back had it not been the searing pain in his leg. Robin was still close enough that she could see a fine sweat begin to break out on his face. “Oh sorry, am I hurting you?” She asked and began to clamor up off him. His hand came to rest on the small of her back, stopping her. She was now kneeling over him, hands on either side of his chest, staring down in concern. “Cormoran?”

He finally was able to make eye contact with her. “Are you ok?” He asked through clenched teeth. 

“Yes, I’m fine. You, however, do not look fine.” Her eyes widened in realization. “Bugger, it’s your leg isn’t it?” She frowned and looked down past her leg to his. 

He sighed as his answer, cursing his knee, this stairwell, his mind and dreams. Robin lifted herself up, both of them missing the feeling of the other. 

“Let me help you up, let’s get you onto the couch.” 

Strike couldn’t meet her eye. This was likely the most compromising position she had seen him in. Grown man, flat on his back, he felt like a turtle stuck on its shell. What other choice did he have than to accept Robin’s help. He grabbed the door frame, Robin’s extended arm and braced himself with his good leg. In one large grunt Robin got him in the upright position. He swayed slightly, trying to keep weight off his right leg. She held him still, her body nearly pressed up against his to keep him from falling over. She stared up at him, examining the stubble on his jaw, his neck, his collar bone. 

“Let’s get you inside.” She dipped under his right arm to act as a crutch, unlocked the door and got them both inside. 

Strike flopped down on the couch which released its usual farting sound. 

“Thank you, Robin. I don’t think it’s too bad, just tweaked.” He frowned at her as she hovered, letting her know to back off. He propped his leg up on the couch and began rolling up his pant leg to see the damage. 

Robin tried desperately not to stare, but she just wanted to make sure he was OK. As Strike began to unhook the prosthesis Robin began to busy herself in the kitchenette. She got the tea on and began to hunt for some paracetamol. She returned to Strike’s side with a cup of water, pills and a cold pack wrapped in a dish towel. 

“Where’d this come from?” He asked as he placed the cold pack on the end of his leg. He had poked and prodded his knee, everything seemed in right order there. He had just irritated the skin and muscle in the prosthesis, nothing meds and ice couldn’t take care of. And time. 

“I bought a few some months back. Between your knee and my ability to crash cars and get into fist fights I figured having one or two wouldn’t be a bad idea.” She smiled down at him. “Tea will be ready in a minute.” She turned and headed back to the kitchenette, keeping her back to Strike as she began soaking the tea bags in their mugs. 

Strike laid back all the way. His right leg propped up on a pillow, ice pack in place, and his head against the far armrest. Within moments a soft snore made it’s way to Robin as she pressed the last water out of the tea bags. 

She turned to find Strike fast asleep, his large hands resting on his chest, which slowly rose and fell peacefully. She left his tea on the counter and brought hers to her desk. Might as well get some work done. She double checked their calendar, no clients until one. She was about to start checking emails when she thought better of it, and locked the office door, just in case someone did decide to walk in, this way they wouldn’t get a view of one legged sleeping Strike. 

Robin began sifting through their emails, deleting spam, saving work inquiries. Soon Robin’s eyes began to feel heavy, and slowly drifted close, her chin resting in her hand. 

“You’re not sleeping on the job are you?” Strike asked leaning on the door frame of his office. He smirked at her as she bolted upright. Robin blushed, she had never fallen asleep at work before, even on all night steak outs she had been able to keep awake. 

“I-er-I’m sorry,” she stammered and tried to figure out where she left off on the emails. 

“S’alright.” He laughed at her, and began to turn into his office. “I got something for you.” He nodded towards his desk and disappeared into his office. 

Robin tried to shake the sleep from her head, stood and followed him into his office. He was standing behind his desk chair, “Have a seat.” 

She sat in his chair and moved to look at the photo’s splayed out on his desk, they looked like stills from CCTV, something was oddly familiar about them. 

Strike rested one hand on the back of the chair, the other on the table leaning forward to look along with her. 

“Wardle sent some stills from more CCTVs in the area around the office. Looks like the carrier that brought you the - uh - package.” He looked away from the photos to watch Robin’s face. “He thinks it’s the same man at least, hoping you could take a look and confirm.”

Robin stared down at the photos, something so familiar about these photos, about Strike. 

She looked up to find him staring not at the photos, but at her, a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite place. He had her cornered, her chair turned slightly with the back agains the desk, his hands on the chair, the table. Robin had nowhere to go, she continued to stare at Strike instead of the photos, his eyes had moved to her mouth and he seemed to be edging closer. 

“Cormoran…I” She whispered up to him, but was cut off by his mouth on hers. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and he hoisted her onto his desk without breaking their kiss. Robin moaned into Strikes mouth as he slid between her legs, pressing their bodies together. Robin could feel him hard, just her panties and his trousers separating them. 

Strike’s tongue quickly found its way into Robin’s mouth, where she was all but waiting for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer agains her heat, whimpering in want. Slowly Strike moved his enthustic kisses from her mouth to her neck and as far down as her blouse would let him. Robin eagerly unbuttoned her shirt so he could continue to trail kisses down her body. He lowered her back down on the desk, on the photos, as he kissed down her abdomen. 

Robin’s mind was beyond blank with pleasure as he lifted one of her legs to his mouth, starting at the ankle, kissing his way up the inside of her leg. No thoughts of cases, or Matthew, or right or wrong, just Cormoran’s mouth on her thigh. Her head hung back off the edge of the desk, her back began to arch into him as his mouth moved ever closer to her center. She could feel his breath through her damp panties and braced herself for the impact of his tongue when a loud knock came through the inner office door she was staring at upside down. 

Except the door wasn’t upside, and it wasn’t coming from the inner office door, but the outer office door that she was now staring at. Robin blinked in the late morning light, looking from the clock on the wall, 9:15, to Strike struggling to sit up from the couch, to the drool on her arm where she must have fallen asleep, and back to the locked office door. 

With amazing speed Robin leaped up from the desk, hollered that she would be right there, helped Strike up and into his office. Robin prayed her hair and face wasn’t all mussed up from sleeping at her desk. Strike had made no comment or hadn’t given her any look on their hop over to his office, then again he looked just as dazed as she felt. She gave herself a quick shake and opened the door.

### 

Strike sat up a little when Robin brought his tea over to him. It was twice as dark as hers, just the way he liked it. He took a sip and Robin made room for herself on the couch, perched on the edge by his waist. He noticed something was missing from her left hand, but in the fog of pain he couldn’t comprehend what was suppose to be there. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked sweetly. Strike tried not to look her in the eyes, sometimes it was like looking at the sun. “Is your leg feeling any better?”

Strike murmured into his tea as she gazed down at him. Her hair shown in the morning sun coming through the window, nearly giving her a halo. Robin leaned forward and stroked his hair, her hand sliding down his face, resting on his chest. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Cormoran?” 

“I-er-uh,” was he always this articulate?

“That bad, eh?” She smiled and took his tea away from him, setting it on the floor beside the couch. “I think I know what would help...” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and slowly leaned forward. “...take your mind off your leg.”

“Robin...I,” is all he managed to get out before Robin’s mouth lightly touched his. Her hands move from his chest, up to his face, his hair. As she leaned farther into him he lost all reserve, his mouth opened as soon as she asked for entry, his hands found her waist and he pulled her on to him.

Her skirt slid up her thighs as she threw her leg over him. She was straddling him as she peppered his face with kisses, letting his hands roam free over her body. Soon her delicate fingers began deftly unbuttoning his shirt, her mouth close behind finding new exposed skin. She tugged his shirt out of his pants as she opened his shirt up fully, exposing his hairy chest and stomach. She raked her fingers through his hair, scratching him lightly with her nails. 

She stared up at him with a darkness in her eyes that he had never seen as her fingers slowly traced their way down to his belt buckle. Strike felt all of his nerves on fire. He should be stopping Robin, but there was not a fiber in his body that had the will to make her stop. He closed his eyes savoring the weight of her on him, the scent of strawberries and vanilla that hovered in the air, the feather light touches of her fingers unbuckling his pants. 

A loud knock on the door caused Strike to sit up right, he found Robin staring at him dazed from the other side of her desk, slight imprints of fabric on her face. He watched as her glassed over look became one of sheer embarrassment, her face flushed and her eyes widened. Cormoran thought she had nothing to be embarrassed about considering what he had just been dreaming about. 

He could barely look at her as she quickly rounded the desk, helped him up and shooed him into his office. She had moved so quickly and frantically that he hoped she had not seen the bulge in his pants. He thanked his lucky stars that the dream hadn’t made it to fruition, trying to hide that from Robin would have been much more difficult. 

Strike sat behind his desk trying to reattach his leg as he heard Robin unlocking and opening the main office door. He shuttered, trying to get his mind elsewhere as Robin knocked on his door and asked if he had time to see a Mr. Sloan. He grunted a yes and asked for a few moments to get situated. She nodded and closed the door, both managing to not make eye contact with the other. 

Five minutes later Robin knocked on the door again showing Mr. Sloan in, she offered them both tea and coffee. When she returned with the tray of drinks and biscuits, Robin made the mistake of looking up into Strike’s eyes. Somehow they seemed knowing and she blushed furiously as she back clumsily out the door. 

Strike continued to stare after Robin, wondering why she had given him such a look. Why did she look so embarrassed? Dear god, did he say something in his sleep? He swallowed hard as Mr. Sloan continued to ramble on about his cheating wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a few different thoughts as how this would go... and this is what came out, I couldn’t resist. I can continue on... but I’m not sure how much longer, since this is suppose to take place during CoE and we all know how the book ends. 
> 
> Hope y’all enjoy and forgive me for the ridiculousness of this. XD


	3. The Rest of Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Strike recount the rest of the day.

::Robin::

Robin sat in mortified silence on the tube to her flat that night. 

Never in her life, even in her awkward teenage years, had she ever made such a fool of herself. Robin cringed as she replayed the rest of the day over and over in her head: 

Mr. Sloan closed Strike’s door as he exited the inner office, bid farewell to Robin and left, leaving her alone with Strike. 

She sat and watched the office door, unsure how to proceed. She was still feeling a bit bashful from her dream earlier and wanted to keep the distance between them, but usually he would come out and discuss the new case they were taking on. However, she thought to herself, he did hurt his knee, so maybe he can’t come out. Or maybe he thought she was being weird and didn’t want to see her? She shook her head. He’s an adult, he will come out when he wants to, she told herself, and set to work going back through the emails that had put her to sleep earlier. 

At quarter till eleven Strike still had not emerged from his office. Robin frowned as she had gotten more and more antsy over the last half hour. _I’ll just go in and see if he wants me to pick up some lunch._ Finally coming up with a good enough excuse to go into his office, she stood, steeled herself and walked to his office door. 

Robin was deep in thought about how to ask if he wanted her to get lunch; this had never been so difficult before! She swallowed and kept her head down as she went to open his door. Strike, however, had beat her too it, so when she absent mindedly walked up to the door, she immediately plowed into his frame coming out of his office. 

She bounced off his chest and would have fell backwards onto her arse, had it not been for his strong arms that enveloped her for the second time that day. She was nearly nuzzling his chest when his arms fell away and he stepped back.

“At least we weren’t near any stairs this time,” he chuckled as he walked by her. “Leg still feels like crap, would you mind skipping down to the Tesco to grab us some lunch?” 

Robin nodded furiously, grabbed her purse and coat and scurried out the door. 

Three more stops.

Robin had returned with their lunches, and they sat and chatted about Mr. Sloan. Robin offered to do surveillance tonight due to Strike’s bum knee. While Robin worked on some google searches, Strike remained on the couch with his remnants of his lunch beside him. 

“I wish I could go out with you.” 

Robin froze mid click. Her index finger hovered over the left mouse button. _What?_ Slowly, Robin turned to look a Strike who was messing with his prosthesis. “Erm-what did you say?”

“I wish I could go out with you, on the stakeout.” He looked up at Robin who was slowly pinking up from her chest, to her neck, to her face. “Why, what did you think I said?” He asked innocently, as if he had no idea what he had just asked her, Robin recalled angrily.

Two more stops.

Strike had finished fiddling with his leg and limped towards Robin’s desk. She made the mistake of looking up at his massive frame as he towered over her, broad shoulders and all. She then proceeded to knock over her cup of pens, catch the computer cord on her chair and pull it out the wall and when she stood up she knocked into Strike’s arm spilling his tea on his crotch. Which then made her look at his crotch! She huffed a flustered huff to herself on the tube. 

One more stop.

Strike had laughed at her, a kind but deep laugh and told her to sit down and shake off whatever bad juju she had going on. He would be right back, up to his flat to change. Robin had sat back down in her office chair, making sure she moved the cords out of the chairs reach. She put her head in her hands and groaned. What a day. All because of some stupid dream. 

She listened to Strike hobble around up stairs, creaking bed springs, shutting of drawers. Geez these floors were thin, she hoped she would never be working late if he brought a woman home. The thought made Robin instantly jealous of some woman that didn’t currently exist. This thought then made Robin cross with herself. Who cares who he brings home? She’s not dating him. She’s engaged. To Matthew. Not Strike. 

_Sigh_

She listened as heavy footsteps made their way down the metal stairs. And back through the office door. 

“Good as new.” He smiled and headed back towards the kitchenette. “Just gotta finish making the tea I was going to make before I was so rudely interrupted.” He was joking, but Robin couldn’t stop the flush from creeping on to her cheeks. 

“Oh no, you just sit! Let me take care of it!” Robin jumped up to cut him off from the kitchenette, wanting to make it up to him. But being that today was the day that nothing could possibly go right for Robin, she had moved the computer cord from the chair’s path, into her own. 

Her toe caught on the cord and threw her off balance. She lurched forward, headed for the ground when, now for the third time, she found herself back in Strike’s arms. She felt his grip change slightly, and he squeezed her to him, just for a moment, before letting her go. 

She quickly stepped back, “What was that for?” 

“Well first to stop you from smashing your pretty face on the filing cabinet, and second because you really seem like you could use a hug today. Geez, Robin, you’re a walking train wreck!” He smiled his kind, handsome smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. 

Her stop. 

Robin walked briskly back to her flat, back to Matthew, as she replayed today’s events over and over again. She felt so stupid. Like such a clutz and spaz. She sighed heavily, at least she survived the surveillance of the evening and even got some good shots of the target going in and out of a strip club. Nothing concrete but something to go on. 

It was late when she got home, but Matthew was still up, waiting as she unlocked the front door and hung up her coat. 

“How was your day?” He asked as she walked into the kitchen and plopped down on a kitchen chair. 

******

::Strike:: 

Robin was sure acting odd today. Maybe she’s on her cycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this.   
> Sometimes it amazes me how much can be going on in my mind and how little is going on in my husbands... I get jealous all the time. Like can I just not think of every little mistake I have ever made while I’m trying to fall asleep? I feel like Robin would be the same way. Over think, over analyze, at least when it came to Strike. 
> 
> Also, after seeing Cuckoo’s Calling Part I, the office lay out I had in my mind is all mucked up. So sorry if something seems inconsistent. I’m trying to fix it. 
> 
> One more chapter to follow :)


	4. The End of Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin finishes up the awkward day from hell.

“How was your day?” He asked as she walked into the kitchen an plopped down on a kitchen chair. 

“Fine.” She lied. She really didn’t want to talk to Matthew about her day. She actually kind of wish she could sit down at a pub with Strike and laugh about how ridiculous today had been. 

“You’re home late.” He stated with tone of annoyance.

“I told you I had a surveillance job that would take the evening.” She was not in the mood for this. 

While Matthew had done a fairly good job accepting Robin’s decision of staying on with Strike after she came back him, Matthew couldn’t help but let her know that it still bothered him. But _he_ was being the bigger person by only being passive aggressive about it. _He_ would make the sacrifice but she would have to know how much he had to suffer due to her selfish ways. He told her every chance he got. 

“Yes, darling, I remember. Doesn’t mean I like it. Don’t like you out late.” After a glare from Robin, “I missed you.” He added almost as an afterthought. 

“Of course, _darling_ , you remind me on a fairly regular basis you don’t like it.” She felt anger swell in her chest. She needed to clear her head, and this was not helping. This was going to be a doozy if he didn’t back down now. “I’m going to go take a shower.” She stood to leave the kitchen when he caught her arm. 

He stared up at her from his chair. “Were you really doing surveillance?” She stared at him, daring him to finish his thought. “Alone?”

The floodgates in her broke. She didn’t even know how much they had been holding back. She was standing at the bottom of an already damaged dam when the final crack allowed the waters to flow full force into her. 

Surrounded by every emotion she had kept pent up the last month or so, two stood out to her: She did not want this life, here, anymore and she needed to see Strike. While the edges were a blurry haze, the picture in her mind of the future was crystal clear.

“I can’t do this anymore, Matthew.”

### 

Strike had made himself dinner, eaten and cleaned up. He had just settled into his chair to review some case files when he heard shoes clamoring up the stairs. Either someone was trying to break in, or Robin was back, and was in a hurry. Funny though since she told him she was headed home after following Mrs. Moaning-Sloan (Robin had texted the nickname after her surveillance that night). Slowly he got up, his leg still a bit sore from the fall earlier in the day. Who ever they were, they started pounding rather frantically before he could reach the door. 

“Yea! Coming!” He shouted as he limped forward. He unlocked the door and found a rather breathless Robin on the other side of the threshold. “Robin?” he asked and stepped aside as she pushed her way in. “You ok? What’s wrong?” 

She stood with her back to him, shoulders heaving. He wasn’t sure if she was just out of breath or crying. She turned to look at him, pale and distraught. He had never seen her look like this before. Even when she had broken up with Matthew, after she found out he cheated and she had drank three glasses of wine, she didn’t look this frazzled. There was something wild behind her eyes, something reckless.

He approached her slowly and she just watched as he stood before her. She seemed to vibrate from her nervousness. He reached out and gently placed his hands on her upper arms, stilling her. “Robin…”

Finally she met his eyes, staring up at him. “Cormoran.” She seemed to come out of whatever trance she was in. She looked around as if she were surprised to find herself in his flat. 

“Robin, what’s going on? What happened?” She didn’t look like she was hurt. “What are you doing here?” He added.

And that was the question, wasn’t it? What was she doing there. It was if her feet took her here of their own volition. “I…” it was now or never. She had just ended it with Matthew to be here. She backed out of his grip and ran a hand through her hair, a ringless hand. “I can’t get you out of my head.” She started, Strike just stared at her. She took a shuddering breath. “I thought I was happy and content before I met you. I thought I had it all. But I didn’t. Not even close. I finally feel like me, for the first time since that night at Uni, I am finally me again. And it’s OK. It’s OK to be me. Don’t you see?” She took a breath, “I wake up every day excited to see you and do the work that we do, and I dread every evening when I have to go home. What do I do with that?”

Strike tried to answer her, but was at a loss for words. Luckily for him Robin wasn’t done.

“Let me finish,” She said as if he actually going to say something. “You,” she said looking back at him, hope and admiration in her stare. “You see me, and know me. You never stop pushing, you don’t want me to settle. I have never met anyone like you. You make me feel like I can keep getting better, but that I am still good enough already. I don’t understand how that works, but it’s the truth.” Lord there was more. “You don’t judge me for my flaws, you don’t make me feel silly or childish for the things I want, for the things I find interesting or am passionate about.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes, surprisingly, for the first time that night. “I didn’t know I could feel this way. I don’t even know what this feeling is. All I know” - hiccough - “All I know is when I’m with you I feel this lightness, and when I’m not, it hurts right here.” She pointed to her heart. And it did hurt, it hurt so bad. 

Strike stared at her wide-eyed. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Never in his wildest dreams, and he had several wild ones, did he ever think Robin would be standing before him spilling her guts to him. “Robin…” They stood at opposite sides of his small kitchen. Robin had backed up to the counter. 

She had both her hands over her heart, as if she was holding it in, keeping it from beating out of her chest. She was still trying to process what had happened today, that night. She looked up at Strike who was just staring back at her, mouth slightly agape. And then it hit her. She did know what this feeling was. “Shit. Shit, Cormoran. I don’t love Matthew. I-”

“Don’t.” He took a step closer. “Don’t say it, Robin.” Another step, “Please don’t say it.” 

He was standing before her, looking down at her as she looked up at him, and she smiled. His heart was pounding in his chest, and as if she knew, she moved her hand from her heart to his. 

“I love _you_.”

He glared at her for daring speak those words. How could she say that when he was the one that loved her? 

Her hand traveled from his chest to his face, bringing their heads together. He rested his forehead on hers. “Robin…” he breathed, “Is this real?” The disbelief in his voice made her laugh. 

“Yes,” She nodded. 

He closed his eyes and kissed her, gently at first, then becoming more urgent at she kissed him back. _This is it,_ he thought as he continued to kiss her and hold her tightly to him, _this is when I open my eyes, and it’s all just a dream._ So he did. “You’re still here...” he said mostly to himself. As he pulled back slightly, she followed him, not wanting to stop. 

“Yea, where would I have gone?” She smiled as she leaned forward to place a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Since they were being honest, “This is usually the part when I wake up and find myself alone in my bed.” He had pulled back a little farther to look at her, tear stained and beautiful. His hand still rested firmly on her hip, his other hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“This is only as far as we get? We’ve made it much farther in my dreams,” she said misteviously.

Strike just stared back, once again shocked and amazed by what Robin was saying. 

“Ah-you? What?” Is all he could manage.

She giggled, nodded and kissed him lightly again. “So you’ve been having dreams too, then?” She asked, hoping for honesty. 

“Yea,” a slightly blush creeped across his face. 

“And yet you keep so cool at the office...mine turned me into a bumbling idiot. You saw me today…” she trailed off, tracing the lines of his jaw. 

“I’ve had longer to practice,” he said smilling down at her. “You just fell in love with me five minutes ago, I probably fell five months ago.” Robin looked shocked, he hope he hadn’t been to forward. “I mean...I…”

“After all this time?”

Strike shrugged, embarrassed. “You amaze me every day Robin, what’s no to love?” He leaned down to kiss her again, enjoying the fact that he could do that whenever he liked, and more importantly, that it was real. “So…” he said between kisses, “would you like to tell me about these dreams?”

“No.” She smiled and kissed him back, “I’d rather prefer to show you.”

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that escalated quickly!
> 
> So the chapters thus far have been pretty silly and light hearted. This one obviously was a little more serious. This story was much longer than I initially intended and hope y’all enjoyed. 
> 
> Also did you catch the little HP nod? <3

**Author's Note:**

> In a Dream by Rockwell is a guilty pleasure song of mine from the 90s. Take a listen and don’t judge me :p
> 
>  
> 
> So initially Robin had been MARRIED, now she is back to being engaged, after she reconciled with Matthew but before the wedding and before Strike fired her. I figured this would make writing the ‘next day’ a little easier when I get to it. :) 
> 
> Sorry for making the change, I’m sure that’s frowned upon, but I feel like inconsistency would be worse :(


End file.
